


Mutually Beneficial Support

by plinys



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Character, Explicit Consent, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 06:36:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2458421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Fitz hasn't been able to jerk off since the accident and Lance offers to help him out with his "little problem."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mutually Beneficial Support

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry that like the first fic this ship is going to have is going to be this smut. Also, I haven't written proper smut in months (so I apologize for that too). 
> 
> For the anon on tumblr that requested:  
> " When Fitz said the line about his hands to Hunter, all I could think of was dirty things. Could you write hand kink smut? Or Hunter helping Fitz out, if you know what I mean? ;) " 
> 
> (not beta'd cause its smut, and i dont have a beta that will read smut for me sorry...)

Fitz is drunk when he blurts it out without thinking.

Lance was complaining about how this whole working for SHIELD thing had put a cramp in his ability to find anybody to hook up with.

Then Mack had just laughed and wiggled his fingers in a way that was obviously innuendo, before smirking at Fitz.

That was the point where he should have said something casual back, laughed it off, he should have just been one of the guys, instead it just slipped out.

One second they were joking about Lance’s need to get some and the next Fitz was letting it spill that he hadn’t been able to jerk off since the accident.

And this was why he hid in the labs instead of talking to people, it saved him from the embarrassing moment where his brain damage apparently meant no longer having a filter when he really needed it.

Or maybe that was the beer.

“Seriously?”

He nods his head once, taking a drink of his beer and hoping that they will just forget about it.

Though he has no such luck for when he looks up the two guys are both still staring at him waiting for him to answer, “uh, my hands, they don’t,” he makes a frustrated noise and waves the one not holding his beer bottle about, “they shake, like remember how you had to with the– the when we were-“

“The wire,” Mack fills in, because he’s good at filling in the words Fitz forgets.

And Lance makes a little, “oh,” as he starts to put it together, “your hands are too shaky to-“

“Yes, that,” Fitz cuts him off before he can finish the sentence, he’s sure that he’s beat red if the burning sensation at the tips of his ears is anything to go by, “so I haven’t- in a while, it’s no big deal really, just a bit frustrating. Nothing more than a minor inconvenience.”

“A minor _inconvenience_ ,” Lance repeats with a snort.

“More than a bit.”

“You know, mate, if you ever wanted some help with that-“

“Oh, sod off.”

 There’s a laugh from Mack, and they both turn to look at where the other guy is looking amused between the two of them.

“What?”

“No, it’s just, you’re both so British-“

“Excuse you, I’m Scottish,” Fitz interjects.

This thankfully gets the conversation going in a very different direction. as he and Lance begin to argue over Scottish Independence while simultaneously having to explain everything to Mack, and Fitz is able to rest easy assuming that everybody will have forgotten about his dilemma by the time that the night had finished.

At least, he had thought they would have. Until breakfast the next morning, when while eating his cheerios and complaining about Skye’s complete inability to make tea properly, Lance slides into the seat next to him and says in a tone that is anything but casual, “you know if you still need help, with what we were talking about last night, my offer is still on the table.”

Before he can once again tell Lance to shut up, Skye stops fiddling with the kettle and asks, “what are you boys working on, something top secret, because you know I’ll find out and-“

“Fitz wanted shooting lessons,” Lance cuts in, lying with an ease that Fitz always lacked, “he’s having trouble with hand positions, and I offered to help.”

There is no way that the words ' _hand positions'_ should sound so dirty, but the way he said them definitely made them sound that way to Fitz and he quickly hid behind the mug of terrible tea so that his embarrassment would remain unknown to the rest of the room.

“I’m fine really,” he murmurs from around his mug.

Lance just shrugs beside him, “your loss, love.”

And he most certainly doesn’t think about the way those words were said later.

Really he doesn’t.

He doesn't he think about the slightly more than friendly looks that Lance gave him the rest of that week whenever he was in the same room as Fitz.

Nor the fact that suddenly his term of endearment has gone from _mate_ to _love_ with every statement Lance makes. 

Okay- that was a lie.

He thought about it a little bit.

Alone.

In the privacy of his bunk or in the cramped showers on the base as he tried to do something about his predicament. Only to groan, not in pleasure, but in frustration, when the task proved to be just as impossible now as it had been weeks before.  

Except before he hadn’t had such thoughts to fuel his imagination, and he hadn’t been so desperate for a release that he couldn’t achieve.

Before he'd been able to squash the needs and the thoughts by going on with life, by burying himself in his science and lab work.

Now whenever he tried he just ended up awkwardly hard in the middle of the lab.

It was that reason and _that_ alone, that was why five days after drunkenly blurting out his situation, he found himself standing outside the door of Lance’s room, awkwardly knocking on the door and wondering if it wasn’t too late to turn back the way he had come.

He was just about to do it too.

Ready to pretend he hadn’t come this way or even knocked, when the door opened and there stood Lance dressed in nothing but a towel with wet hair, grinning at him like this was the best day of his life.

“Sorry, love, I was in shower,” he explains the reason for his delay.

“Obviously,” Fitz tries to act relaxed, but it’s not easy because his mind is definitely cataloging that view for later frustration fuel.  

“Did you need something?”

And now he has a chance to make up some excuse, something he needs down in the lab or- but he can’t think of any of that, so he blurts out the words as fast as he can, “remember when we got drunk and you said you would help me jerk off, and yeah I’m interested.”

There’s a beat of silence, and Fitz is pretty sure that the only reason the whole drowning thing didn’t kill him was so that he could live long enough to die of shame at this exact moment.

Except then Lance’s grin comes back in full force, and he just asks, “right now?”

“Uh- no, you’re busy probably- sorry I shouldn’t just, this was a mistake, I’m actually going to- I should never have- this is so embarrass- but I just- minor inconvenience right? I’ll manage or-“

“I’m not busy.”

“Oh,” Fitz says, stumped for what else to say, “oh, you’re- you’re not.”

“No,” Lance just smirks, “so why don’t you come inside and we can help you with that little problem of yours?”

He follows Lance into the room, noting that it looks about the same as his own room, except for a few minor personal touches. Instinctively Fitz finds himself blurting out, “I’m sorry,” as he looks about the room.

“For what,” Lance asks.

And Fitz was about to answer that question, but when he turns back around to look at Lance, and finds that the towel that around his waist has now moved to the floor all logical thought sort of flees his mind.

“Oh wow.”

“You’re wearing too much clothing, love,” Lance just points out.

And Fitz’s fingers instantly fly to the corners of his shirt working to tug it off his head, before another set of hands come to join him helping him divest himself of his clothing that much quicker.

The only moment of hesitation in the whole situation comes when Lance’s fingers hover over the button of Fitz’s jeans, “hey love, you sure you want this?”

Fitz nods his head a bit numbly, and mumbles something that isn’t coherent even to his own ears.

“Sorry, I’m going to need an enthusiastic and clear yes before I we get started-“

“Yes,” Fitz says, flushing once more, “yes please, oh god, don’t make me-“ he makes a frustrated noise, but there’s an expectant look on the other man’s face and a hand that is far too close to Fitz’s cock for him to think about anything other than sex, “Lance Hunter.”

“Yes?”

“Please give me a hand job.”

“You only had to ask,” he says.

In one fluid motion he pops the button on his pants open, as leans forward to press their lips together for an unexpected kiss, but one that Fitz melts into a second later. It was like Lance was some sort of mind reader, a fact that Fitz was more than willing to push for being accurate when his hand finely settled on the one reason that they were there and- “oh god, fuck-“

“Don’t give god all the credit, love, I’m the one with his hands around your cock.”

“Stop talking,” Fitz grits out, before leaning back forward again to kiss him and cut off whatever smart ass comment Lance is no doubt about to say.

Though it doesn’t stop the amused chuckle that he feels against his lips, before Fitz’s is pushed backwards onto a bed that is similar to his own and yet strangely unfamiliar at the same time.

“You didn’t make your bed,” is the first thing that comes to Fitz’s mind when he hits the plush surface, eyes watching the other man as he heads to a bed side drawer to grab what Fitz can only hope is lube.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly plan on this happening,” Lance tells him, with a smug grin., “last time I checked you’ve spend the last few days turning down any attempt I’ve made at flirting-“

“I thought you were teasing, _are_ teasing,” Fitz corrects, dimly registering the popping noise of a bottle opening.

“I’m not teasing,” Lance just replies as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Really- you not teasing that’s a fir- fuck, oh fuck-“ anything else he had tried to say turning into complete gibberish, and not for the usual reasons, but because there was a hand on his cock that wasn’t shaking, that was steadily jerking him toward the satisfaction which had completely escaped him the past few months.

Instinctively his eyes fluttered shut hoping to let himself be downed in the sensations, only to be forced to abort the action when Lance’s voice commands softly, “look at me.”

There’s no way he can refuse that, not when he’s doing this.

So Fitz opens his eyes wondering why for a second the usually arrogant look on Lance’s face seems to be a little less than usual.

“Unless looking at me kills your boner, which I would completely understand. Not everybody enjoys the blokes and birds the way I do but-“

“I do,” Fitz says, before realizing that might not make sense, and trying to put his thoughts in order enough to say, “you’re very- I don’t mind looking- attractive and not just aesthetically-“

“Aesthetically,” Lance repeats, one brow arching in amusement, “clearly I’m not doing a good enough job if you can remember the word _aesthetically._ ”

Fitz can’t help but tease back, his lips twitching up slightly as he replies, “maybe you should work on that then.”

And he does.

He works on it so well that Fitz couldn’t say something smart again even if he wants to, and when he finally comes it’s the best release he’s had in far too long. It’s everything he hadn’t realized he’d needed, and the name on his lips is that of the person right beside him.

Fitz swears he sees stars, but he’s not going to admit it because Lance doesn’t need his ego inflated any more than it already is.

Afterward, when he’s finally crashed back down to reality and he can breathe again he notices there’s still motion beside him and, “oh, I could, I should probably- help you out with- but I-“

“It’s alright, love,” Lance just smiles back at him, before letting out a groan.

“You know, my hands might have a bit of trouble with- with things, but I could uh, if you want,” he can’t finish the sentence, but he runs his tongue over his lower lip and he thinks that the other man must get the picture.

“I wouldn’t complain,” Lance says, but his tone is not as cocky as usual, and instead is a little bit breathless and wonderful, because Fitz knows that he's part of the reason for it, and the post orgasm have doesn't even compare to that realization. 

“Yeah, I can do that,” Fitz props himself up, but not before giving one little smirk and saying, “but I’m going to need an enthusiastic and clear yes before I begin.”

 


End file.
